Fresh Wounds
by ChocolatyMoonLight
Summary: After a scarring ordeal on an alien planet, Rose Tyler is left traumatized and a shell of her former self, and it's up to the Doctor to help. Trigger warning for rape, torture, self-harm, and PTSD.
1. Prologue

**Warning:** This story deals with torture, rape, self-harm, and PTSD, and may be triggering for some.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing

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Two men in nurse's uniforms padded through a dimly-lit hallway, one carrying a syringe and vial. They reached a door, and one pressed his thumb into the identification scanner. The door slid open, revealing a small, white room with a toilet and a metal bench. In the corner, there was a girl, huddling with her face pressed into her knees and crying quietly. She wore a white smock and white trousers, but there were red stains blooming on both. Her wristband displayed the words Tyler, Rose and the number 71834.

At the invasion of the two men, she immediately flinched, sensing their arrival. She peeked up, then buried herself deeper into the corner, wrapping her arms around her legs. One man kneeled down and pried her arms away, to reveal fresh cuts with blood leaking out crisscrossing down her arms. The man looked at the other man, and shook his head. The girl continued to cry, shaking violently as the man took out a roll of gauze and wrapped it around her wounds until they were completely covered.

Then he looked her in the eyes, his gaze cold and direct. "We need you alive," he said in monotone, with no intention whatsoever to comfort her. "Take her to the lab. She needs another dose."

"No, no, no!" the girl cried, shaking her head and batting the men away as they tried to grab her. "Not the lab, please not the lab! Please!"

She screamed as they dragged her up by her arms, and she kicked violently, squirming within their grasps, trying to wrench herself free. Still they were stronger than her, and they simply tightened their grasps, and pulled her further down into the dark corridor.

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**What do you think? Leave a review and let me know.**


	2. Chapter 1

**AN:** Here's the next chapter! Updates may be a bit sporadic, cause I've got a ton of other projects that I'm working on, but nonetheless I promise to keep the story going. Review and tell me what you think!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing

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"This is the police, open the door now!" yelled the commander of the squadron at the top of his voice, the sound of his pounding against the metal door thundering through the dark hall. "Open the door!"

Exasperated, the Doctor wormed his way through the cluster of heavily-armed police, bumping into their thick armor and large shields. "Here," he said, sonicking the door.

It slid open, revealing yet another dark corridor. At the end of the hall, there was a figure, but it was too swathed in shadow to make out anything else about it. Then they heard sauntering footsteps, and a man emerged into the dim light.

He wore a hospital gown stained with blood, and nearly every inch of visible skin was seared with red, bulbous scars. He was bleeding from his forehead, and it nearly completely painted the left side of his face.

"Please," he whimpered. "P-p-p-please help me!"

"It's alright," said the commander. "We're here to help. Just stay calm and someone will be with you right away."

In response, one of medical techs ushered him down the hall, whispering soothingly to him.

The Doctor felt his hearts tighten in horror at the sight. It made him scared to think what they could have done to Rose. He sighed, hoping to mollify the rising heat of his anger at the thought of them harming her. Still, his skin bristled as his thoughts of what they could have done continued to deteriorate. The moment he'd learned about the kind of things the program did to it's victims, he'd felt like he was going to be sick. Experimentation, drugging, torture. The whole purpose of the program was producing drugs and torture methods for warfare. It terrified him to think of what they could have done to his precious Rose.

They continued down the hall, and discovered even more poor men and women traumatized and in pain, only half-aware of their surroundings as they begged for help to no one in particular. It seemed as if the scientists in charge had known they were coming, and abandoned it in hopes of escaping, the cowards.

"Evacuate the victims," the commander said to his followers, and they did so, carefully guiding the men and women out of the dark corridor and to the safety of the nearby ship.

"We still need to find Rose," he said, turning towards the man.

"There's no sign of your friend, Doctor," he replied, his voice crisp from inside the suit.

The Doctor's hands clenched into tight fists, and his tone darkened. "I am not leaving without her."

The commander stared at him for a long time, then sighed. "Fine."

His hearts heavy within his chest, he went further down the corridor and took a right, stopping at a large white door. He could hear someone crying inside, and immediately he felt his hearts jump into his throat. He pounded on the door. "Rose?"

There was no reply, just further sobbing.  
"Listen, whoever you are, I'm going to get you out," he said, fumbling with the sonic screwdriver and angling it at the latch. "Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

The door slid open, revealing none other than Rose herself balled up in a corner. She wore a white smock and white trousers, but they were stained with blood, and he felt his insides go cold at the sight. Her hair, once so golden, was now dull and greasy, matted and full of tangles. Her skin was so pale that she looked sickly, and she had lost a considerable amount of weight since the last time he saw her.

"Rose," he gasped, getting down on his knees and reaching out for her.

Rose flinched as he reached toward her, eyes wide with an animalistic fear, and his stomach turned as he realized that she did not recognize him. No, he thought, unable to cope with the idea that she no longer knew him.

"Rose, it's me," he said gently, stroking her shoulder even though she flinched away. "It's the Doctor."

Still, his words seemed to do nothing to comfort her. She continued to tremble violently, sobbing into her knees. He found himself at a loss for what to do. He reached out and pressed his fingertips against her temples, sending her something that was almost the equivalent to a mental hug, and immediately she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"Shhh," he soothed, stroking up and down her back. "It's okay. You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you."

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Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor guided Rose to the med bay and ran a few tests on her in hopes of understanding why she did not seem to recognize him. She eyed him warily the entire time as she sat on the bed, and every so often she would start to whimper and cry, and he would rush to her side, cuddling and whispering to her until she seemed stable again.

When the test results finally came back, the Doctor realized what was wrong with her. She was under the influence of a potent cocktail of hallucinogens and stimulants, designed to temporarily erase her memory and increase her fear so that she had no idea who or where she was, only that she was terrified beyond comfort. He felt his entire body tighten when he saw the results.

Sneaking a glance back at Rose, he saw that she had pulled her feet up onto the bed and was burying her face in her knees. He swallowed painfully, and reached toward her.

"Shh," he said, pulling away when she flinched at his touch. "It's alright. I'm going to make all the monsters go away."

She shook beneath his touch, but leaned towards him. Very gently, he pressed his fingertips against her forehead, sending her into a sweet, dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**AN:** And now, Rose wakes up, and we begin to see exactly how deeply her experience has affected her. Tell me what you think.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing

**Warnings: **Once again, this chapter may be triggering for some.

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Darkness.

Everywhere, just cold, endless darkness.

She's clawing for a way out, but there is nothing to grab onto, just thin air. Her heart is strangling within her chest, furiously trying to beat it's way out of her chest, and she finds herself choking on her own lungs. She thinks she feels tears rolling down her cheeks, but she can't be sure. Muscles sore with the power of her desperate efforts, she cries out into the darkness, her screams going unheard.

Rose's eyes flew open. At first, she had no idea where she was. It was not the cold, white surroundings she was used to, but rather a room with soft lighting, the kind that made her want to curl up and go back to sleep. The bed was softer, too. It cushioned every part of her body, sapping the strength away from her muscles and making her go limp and malleable.

Trembles ripped violently through her body, cold like rats scampering up her spine, and suddenly she heard a voice.

"Rose!"

She looked to the left, and saw a very familiar face. "D-Doctor?" she whimpered, rubbing her eyes as if he was nothing more than a mirage. "Is that really you?"

"I'm here, Rose," he said gently, leaning over and brushing her hair out of her face. "It's alright. You're safe now."

Rose stared up at him, stunned by his presence. She reached out and touched his cheek, running her fingertips over the sharp cheekbones, counting each pale freckle along the way, then she ran her fingers through his hair, so thick and soft, the same hair as always. Tears simmered in the edges of her eyes, then they ran down her cheeks, hot and full of salt, drying up to form a crust on her skin.

"Doctor," she whimpered. "I thought you'd never find me."

The Doctor gathered her into a hug, cradling her head against his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, rocking her in gentle motions as if she were an infant. "I'll always find you. I promise."

"I was so scared," she cried, recalling the seemingly endless hours spent pounding her fists against the door until they ached, screaming so loud that she went hoarse for days, being so desperate that she resorted to using her nails to scratch at her skin until she bled, just so that she could have something, anything to take her mind off of the horror of it all.

"You're safe," he whispered, pulling away and cupping her cheeks. "No one's going to hurt you, not anymore."

"All the time, Doctor," she sobbed. "All the time, they would come into my room and they would beat me. Or they'd give me these shots that'd make me hurt all over. It never stopped."

"It's stopped now," he said, his voice thickening with his own tears. "Whatever they did to you, I promise you, it will never happen again."

She nodded, feeling the rhythm of her heart slow down. The realization that she was safe, that it was real, was still settling in, like medicine seeping through her blood, slow but sure. Wiping away her tears, she smiled a weak, watery smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"I think... I think I wanna take a shower," she said, laughing bitterly. "Can't remember the last time I washed my hair. I must look so gross."

"I think you look beautiful," the Doctor replied, the words escaping him as if he'd never meant for them to leave his lips, breathless and light.

"Thanks," she said, climbing out of bed and biting her lip.

* * *

Hot water pelted against her back as the thick steam pressed into her skin. All the cuts and sore that were etched onto her body ached horrendously, but nonetheless she continued to shower, too elated by the long-forgotten sensation of a warm shower to care. She squeezed a lump of pink shower gel onto her hand and rubbed it against her entire body, the bubbles coating her skin in a sweet-smelling froth. The gel made her injuries hurt even more, but once again, she couldn't bring herself to care.

I'm free, she told herself. He found me. They're never gonna hurt me again. No matter how many times she told herself, she still couldn't believe it. When she'd first been captured, she'd been convinced that the Doctor would come and find her. She'd even fought back against the guards when they came to beat or rape her, even if it earned her more punishments. But eventually, as days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, her faith in him began to wane. She stopped eating, just slept through all of her free time. She tried to convince herself that he was coming for her, that he'd just gotten the coordinates a little wrong, but still, she found her strength weakening as each day passed. Soon she stopped fighting back against the guards, letting them do as they pleased with her, just shutting her eyes against it and pretending she was somewhere else. She even let them spit on her and call her names, and soon she internalized the names they called her, treating them not as slurs but as facts. Her self-worth was practically nonexistent. She didn't care about anything anymore. To pass the time, she found herself scratching at her skin until she bled, and at one point, she even went as far as trying to cut her wrists in hope of killing herself.

Remembering the sickening sense of desperation, the desire to be anywhere but there, even if it meant death, made her stomach curl, and suddenly her elation was gone. She swallowed a hot, sharp gulp, and pressed her hand against the wall to steady herself. Tears ran down her cheeks, mingling with the water, but still, she knew all too well that she was crying.

No, she told herself. It's over. It's never gonna happen again.

* * *

The Doctor stirred the small pot of porridge, drizzling in some honey and sugar every once in a while (Rose always loved things that were obscenely sweet, and she was lucky he shared her sweet tooth). He knew her stomach would be weak from the slop she was forced to eat at that horrid prison, so he didn't want anything too heavy for her. He added some sliced strawberries and just a dash of cinnamon for some more flavor, then turned off the stove and scraped it into a bowl.

"Doctor," came Rose's voice, sounding much smaller and more fragile than he was used to.

He turned to see her standing in the doorway, donning sweat pants and a hoodie, her hair still messy and wet from her shower. She wore no makeup, but nonetheless he thought she looked radiant, even though her eyes were tired and her cheeks were puffy. He always thought his Rose looked beautiful.

"Rose!" he said, smiling. "I made you some porridge."

She nodded, taking a seat at the table. He placed the bowl down in front of her, then sat down across from her. She stirred her food with her spoon, but didn't take a bite, and immediately he worried about how much her experience had truly affected her.

"H-how long was I gone?" she asked, looking up from the bowl.

His stomach tightened at the question, but nonetheless he answered. "About seven months, give or take."

She nodded, pressing her lips together. "Oh, okay."

"No, it's not okay," his tone darkened. "You should never have been there in the first place. I should have known-"

"Doctor, you found me," she interrupted, forcing a wan smile. "I'm here, now. I'm safe. I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened."

"Rose, those people hurt you. They hurt you in the sickest, most evil ways they could invent, and you act like there's nothing wrong."

She whimpered as she tried to force down a sob, but nonetheless the tears came, like a flood breaking through a dam. "I just don't want you to go all Oncoming Storm on them. I just... Don't."

"Right," he said after a while. "I'm sorry, I just... To think of what they did to you, to all those people, it's just so wrong. It's evil, is what it is."

She reached over and gently grabbed his hand, as was so typical of Rose, thinking of others before herself. "It's okay," she said, tears in her eyes. "It's okay."


End file.
